Film Noir
by Ellie 5192
Summary: Written for Closer FicFest 2014, prompt 96: "andy/sharon - 1940s au. andy's partner/sharon's husband is killed in the middle of a big investigation. sharon comes to andy to help and he doesn't want her help only realize that pretty much all his partner's ideas had been sharon's and they team up."


_Written for Closer FicFest 2014, prompt 96: "andy/sharon - 1940s au. andy's partner/sharon's husband is killed in the middle of a big investigation. sharon comes to andy to help and he doesn't want her help only realize that pretty much all his partner's ideas had been sharon's and they team up."_

_Totally different from anything I've written before, and I hope I did this prompt justice. _

_Named for the Gaslight Anthem song of the same name._

**Film Noir**

I'm here to tell you a story, and it's a good one, so I hope you're listening. Me and Jack, we go way back. We came through the academy together back in '33, both of us wanting to support our future families, both of us newly married. In those days, nobody had two nickels to rub together. Being a cop didn't pay much, but it was a job, and unless they caught you peddling booze over the border the job was yours for life. The day we graduated the academy we went out for drinks and celebrated. Going out to the bar together would become our nightly habit, and even though my wife didn't stick around to see how bad it would get, Jackie's did. Man, that dame was a keeper. Tough as nails, and had his balls in a vice, but she was the prettiest thing I seen in our office in a long time.

That last investigation me and Jackie worked was big. Huge. The kind of story they make movies about in this big old town of Hollywood. Unfinished, as they say. A lot of shit went down and a lot of people got involved, and there just wasn't the time or inclination to see it through to the end. You got to understand, reader, that those were different times. It was a different world. And not all of it was pretty.

"_Tough day, honey?"_

_Jack smiled at the voice of his sweetheart. God, did he love her. He put her through some crap, but then everyone was living through hell since the country crashed around them. With his job, she sort of understood. It would be easier for her when she got pregnant – when she had something to keep her mind occupied during the day. They were practicing all they could for that. She'd make a good mother, and he made a good cop, and they'd be perfect once everything settled. They just needed to get settled, that's all. _

"_Another murder"_

"_Another one?" _

"_Yeah. But I don't wanna talk about that" _

_She shrieked when he pulled her on the bed with him, a playful growl in his throat. Never one to resist him for long, she let him kiss her long and hard, and then undress them both quickly. Later, when they were snuggled back in bed and she was reading her book, he heard her sigh. "You don't suppose they're connected do you? Your murders?"_

_He hadn't thought of that. Different neighbourhoods, unrelated people. But then, there was something about them that looked similar – something that crawled his skin. Straight blade, like the kind a shaving knife might get – a common way to kill somebody, especially in this town. The thugs and the low-life's ran this town, and that's just the way they might do it. But maybe… just maybe…_

Those few crazy weeks are hard to get my head around, even now. Even all these years later. Even with her help.

I got benched after Jack…

… well…

… after Jack.

The investigation we were running went cold even though we were sure they were all connected. It ran cold and people made sure it stayed cold, and there was nothing in it – nothing holding it together- except an idea to connect the dots, and nobody wanted those dots to make a line… if you get my meaning.

Jack came up with that, actually – figuring out the string of murders was connected. He was always coming up with ideas like that, out of the blue. Come into work, let me in on the secret. He never did tell me where his ideas came from…

"_Don't you turn you back on me, Andy Flynn"_

"_Sharon, you need to go home"_

"_I will not"_

"_Sharon, please, you can't-"_

"_Andy, stop messing with me, I know you know what I'm saying" _

_He stomped towards the door of his office, the desk still clear from his fresh suspension. She followed him, of course, because she's like that. She didn't care. He didn't bother with a light, letting the office stay dark, and the light from outside show him enough. It made it look more private too._

"_There is nothing I can do for you now. It's done. The report is filed" he said, and that's true, but it hurt every time he had to say it; every time he said it to her._

"_You re-open old cases all the time, Andy. Didn't you re-open one just the other week to do with those murders that you and Jack were working?"_

"_How do you know about that?" he asked, rounding on her. He had the foresight to pull her into the empty office closing the door behind her. Ears could flap more than a hummingbird's wings if given proper incentive, and he didn't want to bring her that kind of trouble. Not now. Not after everything. _

"_Who do you think gave him the idea to connect them?" she hissed. Her eyes held a fire he'd never seen before; a woman on a mission to avenge her husband and track down his killers. She wouldn't back down, he knew that, and she would toe that line all the way to a conviction to bring the men who did this to justice. _

"_You told Jack to-? What was he doing talking his cases through with you?"_

_She gave him a look that let him know just how dumb he looked, but he didn't comment. He was still trying to figure out what was going on. It all started to make sense to him – the random ideas, the leads to follow, the fact that Jack would bound into work with no indication of how he cooked it all up. How Jack could never have got his ideas any other way. How his wife could have cracked case after case from the outside looking in, and he never realised. He never even suspected._

_He knew he'd underestimated her, but he never saw that coming. _

_She levelled her stare at him again, and he knew she was serious. "Andy. You and Jack knew each other a long time. I know you don't think he killed himself" _

_He'd give her credit – her voice didn't even crack. _

And she was right, too. It was a week after Jack's funeral, and Sharon was just wild. I expected her to be upset, maybe even angry – widows often are when they don't get the answers they want. But it wasn't just anger that drove her, it was principle, and it was her own brand of strength. I would never say Jack was a perfect husband – he drank and he gambled and he was never serious about playing house with his missus – but he loved her. He really did love her.

I'll never forget the night Jack was killed.

I say killed, because no matter what the official report says, I know it wasn't a suicide. Jack wasn't that kind of guy – the kind to throw himself over the banister where his own wife would find him hangin' from a six foot piece of rope. Jack was plucky and a little full of himself – a real charmer – but he wasn't that kind of guy. No way. And he loved her.

The night I was called to the scene it had been raining, which was unusual for L.A that time of year. But, this wouldn't be an old Hollywood story without some night time thunderstorm, and so it was raining. And I'll never forget the look on Sharon's face. It's like she wasn't even inside her own body. It's like she was just a shell of a person, all white and slow and shaky.

_You find out who did this, Andy_, she said to me. I knew right then that I would. I knew then that the day she stormed into my office was inevitable. Nobody could resist Sharon Raydor for long, not even me. Especially not me. Jack was her husband, and he was my partner, and I knew as well as she did that this was a message. Somebody tried to scare us into shutting up. And for a while it worked.

"_I could lose my job over this"_

"_Yeah, well, Jack lost his life over this. I want to know what all the fuss is about"_

_That hurt, but he had to give it to her, it was honest. She was still raw – it was barely a week since Jack died – but he knew she wouldn't grieve until all the fallen chips had been picked up. And he owed it to Jackie to help her pick them up and stack them on the table. _

"_Just humour me, Andy. Just take a look and tell me that they don't look similar. Look at the pictures side by side, and if you don't see it, I'll let it go" _

_And of course he would, because it wouldn't be the first time that he snuck a peak in archives when he wasn't supposed to, and it won't be the last. And he owed it to his partner to get to the ugly truth, no matter how hard. He owed it to Sharon. To himself._

There was a connection – of course there was – but it led back to a contract killer, and nobody wanted to go near it. The man was practically a ghost – a pipedream that old timers told the fresh faces at night. The white whale to catch if you were just that good and did all your paperwork. And nobody wanted to question that Jackie had killed himself. They didn't want to talk about it. He was in the ground; his wife was just going widow-crazy. Leave it be, they said, but the photos were too damning. We went down and looked at them – more and more boxes sprawled out in the back corner of the archives basement. I know the guard down there, and he didn't mind. I guess he felt sorry for me – I was just Jack's partner looking for answers.

Well, we certainly found those connections. Once they were all sitting there in front of us, case after case, it was too hard to ignore. But harder was how we were going to tell anybody. Who would believe us, and who would do anything. A cover-up this big, I was reluctant to tell anybody. And Sharon. She had already lost one person; I was the oldest friend she had in this town. I wasn't going to go running into trouble, hurting her all over.

I wanted to find the answers for Jack, just like she did. But we had to play it smart. Sooner or later someone would slip up. And slip up big.

_They were sitting on her couch, shoes off and a throw over her knees, nursing a hot cup of tea. It was eerie being back in the house after seeing… that. The banister just outside the living room door seemed to squeak in the wind, and it made him shiver. She noticed, her eyes world-weary. _

"_I haven't slept through the night since… since I found him" _

_He looked at her at the other end of the couch. Maybe they were too close for proper company, but nobody would see, and besides, they had history. He needed a friend just as much as she did. He gave her a look instead; a sympathetic nod that told her to go on if she wanted. She didn't look at him, too busy staring at the fireplace with the meagre little flame._

"_The house creaks and wakes me up. I can't get back to sleep for hours after. Thank god my job is just stacking paperwork, or someone would probably notice"_

"_I notice" he said quietly, gently. _

_She gave him a small smile in thanks._

_He took her hand in his and laced the fingers, squeezing them in comfort. There was nothing like the real touch of someone on your team to pull you back to earth; sometimes solidarity was just enough for the moment. Or just enough to sleep some. _

"_I'll sleep on the couch, if you don't mind. I don't think I can make it home I'm so tired"_

"_Of course you can stay, Andy. You can take the spare room. I wouldn't have it any other way" _

The case got real big, real fast. I'm talking half a city worth of players; the casino owner, the Russians who ran drugs in and out of the nightclubs, a loan shark, and a freelance killer, all of them belonging to gangs throughout the city. What Jack and I stumbled across wasn't just a string of maybe-related murders; they were the casualties of a mobster turf war happening right under our noses. Illegal weapons and dope, and whorehouses trafficking heroin – they were all connected, just like Sharon said.

"_Sharon, you can't be here" he hissed, trying to push her back towards her car and away from the alley._

"_I'm not leaving. I got you to start looking into this, Andy, and I won't let you go in by yourself" _

"_This isn't some naughty school kid getting called to the principal's office. Jesus Christ, this is serious. This the mob, Sharon, and people who kill for a living" _

_She could tell he was furious with her for putting herself in harm's way, and maybe it was completely ridiculous. But a part of her felt like she couldn't just leave him to fend for himself. Weeks and weeks of piecing it all together – her living room wall was starting to look like a crazy place with all the evidence pinned to it. They had notes and red string connecting all the various players, and she just couldn't let him go snooping alone. She felt responsible for him, because it was her idea. She practically got Jack killed, making him look deeper where he shouldn't, she couldn't do the same to Andy. _

"_I told you I was here all the way. I meant it" she said, looking him in the eye. _

_He looked scared for her. Never mind his own safety, he looked scared for her. And also very proud of her. She'd never seen that particular combination on anybody's face before, and it was hard to know what it meant. _

"_You are one crazy broad, you know that?"_

"_Oh come on, Andy, that's what you love about me" she joked, nudging him with her shoulder. _

"_Yeah" he hummed, as he looked back at the building entrance with a dark look on his face. He looked entirely too thoughtful. Maybe she'd got herself in too deep after all. Maybe the thing that was going to land them in trouble had nothing to do with the casino they were casing, and everything to do with the man sitting right next to her. The man who had listened to her insane ideas and gone along with them. The man who hadn't left her side since this whole business made her a widow. _

None of us knew what we were getting into, but once that first dot got connected to the next, those chips just kept on falling. One man's brother-in-law killing another man's son; the Italians starting it big with the Russians; another body showing up with that same cut across the throat.

And the cops weren't immune to it either. By the end, half the force had been investigated for corruption, and gun running, and bribery, and whore-mongering. Even some guys in our station went down for getting involved. It was chaos. It went right up to the commissioner – right through the courts and all over the press. One by one those people involved either got charged or got out of dodge before their friends could rat them out. Not everyone got thrown in lock-up, of course. The guys in charge just moved on to the next city and changed their operation. I doubt we'll ever know how deep it really ran, or how many were really involved. I hope I never have to meet them again, 'cause I don't know how many lives I got left. But it was enough to have them all scared. It was enough that they all cooled down for a while, laying low and closing their operations. And within a month we noticed the murders going down, so really, I count that as a win. You count your ups when they come, and you pray the downs go a little easier, and that's the best we can do.

But most important, the guy who got Jack – well, he got to meet that old Murphy's Law. One of his own found out he was two-timing services for the other side. The day before his trial we found him hanging by his bootstraps to the bars of his cell. Nobody knows how the culprit got in, but it was poetic justice to write it up as a suicide and let the record show a coward. Nobody much cared about finding justice for that one. And I slept like a baby that night.

The whole city got reformed overnight, and we had letters of thanks from every corner, from widows and sons and mothers, thanking us for bringing the killers to justice; telling us that their store was back open for business or the car outside their house was gone. We were heroes, and it felt damn good. Give it a while, the cars will come back. Like rats to a granary. But for now my job is made a little bit easier. Life's never perfect.

And all because some feisty woman stuck her nose where it didn't belong.

Let this be a lesson to never underestimate Sharon Raydor.

"_I'd offer you a drink, but I know better"_

_He smiled at her, and shrugged one shoulder. "I'd take a coffee if you got it, though"_

"_Well, that I can do" _

_He followed her into the kitchen, down beyond the narrow staircase, his hands in his pockets. The place smelled nice – he thinks she might have put some flowers out, or maybe it was a new perfume. Either way, it smelt like her. It was good._

"_I like the new place. It suits you" _

_She smiled at him over her shoulder as she filled up the kettle and put it back on the stove, collecting two mugs and the coffee beans. _

"_I couldn't stay at the old place, you know? Too many bad memories"_

"_I get that"_

"_But I've been sleeping well here, though" _

"_I'm glad to hear it" _

_She busied herself preparing their coffees, and he rounded the table to stand next to her, innocently pulling a cookie out of the glass jar on the bench. She saw him from the corner of her eye and smirked at him, and with a grin on his face he held a second one out to her. She ducked her head with a shake, licking her bottom lip in that way that she did, taking the cookie. He took another bite of his own before he could do something really crazy like tuck the loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was looking so much better; she was almost glowing again._

"_I hear you nabbed a few more bad guys while I was setting up house" she says, passing him a warm mug, and gesturing to the table to sit. _

"_We did. Half the city has gone crazy, but I like to think I'm just doing my civic duty, you know?"_

_She laughed at him, loud and honest, and nodded while they settled next to each other at her small wooden table. She'd had to sell a lot of things to make the payment for this place, but it was inevitable. The mood turned sombre for a moment, and they both understood why._

"_With everything finally settling down it's just starting to hit me, you know? That he's really gone. I keep expecting him to come home smelling of booze and-"_

_She stopped before she could reveal too much of their marriage, but Andy understood. It hadn't been perfect, but it had been familiar. And maybe Jack wasn't what she needed in a husband, but she had been in love with him once, and she still loved him some when he was killed. None of their hard work those last weeks could have taken away that pain, and no amount of justice would bring Jack back. All that was left was to accept the grief and move forward._

"_I'm glad I've had you, Andy" she said quietly, tracing the rim of her cup with her nail. "It's really helped me, you know?"_

"_I'm always here if you need me" he said, stopping her fidgeting by taking her hand in a rare show of affection. "You know that"_

_She looked up at him, right in the eye, and smiled just a little. He was grounding for her; her harbour in this storm. And she was getting the feeling that she was the same for him. It was comforting to know they had each other. She was still grieving for her husband, but so was he for his friend, and they could see each other through this and maybe come out the other side better for being together._

"_Besides" he started, squeezing her fingers with a smile. "I couldn't ask for a better sidekick" _

_She scoffed at him. "Sidekick? Excuse me, but I do believe I was running the show"_

"_That's not what the report says" _

"_Behind every man is a powerful woman" she retorted haughtily. He grinned at her, sipping his coffee. _

"_How about partner then?" _

_She grinned at him, looking down at their hands still clasped on the table between them. "I like the sound of that" _

_He brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed the back of them, squeezing her fingers again as their hands rested on the table once more. _

"_You want me to whip something up for dinner?" he asked softly, knowing how long her days had been, and how tired she was, having to support herself. _

"_You cook?" she asked, surprised that the gruff and grumble detective would have such a skill._

"_I might know a thing or two" he replied. "My Italian mother would have never forgiven me for not knowing the basics"_

"_Well, in that case I may have to keep you around" _

_He just smirked as he stood, letting go of her hand. He immediately leaned close to her and pulled her head towards him, planting an affectionate kiss into her hair. She smiled up at him in thanks._

"_I'll stay as long as you need me" he said, pulling back just far enough to meet her eyes. She smiled again, and nodded, and watched as he busied himself in her kitchen, cooking up a storm. She could get used to this. It felt good to let him take care of her a little. And they did make an exceptional team. She could get very used to this indeed. _


End file.
